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By Moonlight in Neldoreth Forest - Ted Nasmith

at the water’s edge ruby grips the bed i know i’m going to die if i don’t reach the other side

I still will be your shelter Through rain and through storm And with you in your cold grave I can not sleep warm

i`ve seen your fairground hair, your seaside eyes your vampire tooth, your little truth your tiny lies i know your trembling hand, your guilty prize your sleeping limbs, your foreign hymns your midnight cries

Singing “Oh willow waly” till my lover return to me. We lay my love and I beneath the weeping willow. A broken heart have I. Oh willow I die, oh willow I die…

This is no terror ground Or place for the rage No broken hearts White wash lies Just a taste for the truth Perfect taste, choice, and meaning A look into your eyes

A May Day present in honor of the little pagan girl I used to be.

Chelsea Wolfe - “Iron Moon”

— THEODORA ALLEN, from Monuments / Weald (Weald is the old English word for forest.) Oil and watercolour on linen.

Blodeuwedd (1930) by Christopher Williams

Christopher Williams (Welsh, 1873 - 1934), Blodeuwedd; Flower Face, n.d., oil on canvas; Newport Museum and Art Gallery.

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OH MY FUCK

Louder, lips speak louder, better back together Still it’s a sharp shock to your soft side Summer moon, catch your shut eye In your room, in my room In your room, in my room